Enter MISTRESS MARY, YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR,
BRABO, and MISTRESS SPLAY.
MRS MA. Not have my will! yes, I will have my will;
Shall I not go abroad but when you please?
Can I not now and then meet with my friends,
But, at my coming home, you will control me?
Marry, come up!
Y. ART. Where art thou, patience?
Nay, rather, where's become my former spleen?
I had a wife would not have us'd me so.
MRS MA. Why, you Jacksauce! you cuckold! you what-not!
What, am I not of age sufficient
To go and come still, when my pleasure serves,
But must I have you, sir, to question me?
Not have my will! yes, I will have my will.
Y. ART. I had a wife would not have us'd me so;
But she is dead.
BRA. Not have her will, sir! she shall have her will:
She says she will, and, sir, I say she shall.
Not have her will! that were a jest indeed;
Who says she shall not? if I be dispos'd
To man her forth, who shall find fault with it?
What's he that dare say black's her eye?[21]
Though you be married, sir, yet you must know,
That she was ever born to have her will.
MRS SPLAY. Not have her will! God's passion! I say still,
A woman's nobody that wants her will.
Y. ART. Where is my spirit? what, shall I maintain
A strumpet with a Brabo and her bawd,
To beard me out of my authority?
What, am I from a master made a slave?
MRS MA. A slave? nay, worse; dost thou maintain my man,
And this my maid? 'tis I maintain them both.
I am thy wife; I will not be dress'd so,
While thy gold lasts; but then most willingly
I will bequeath thee to flat beggary.
I do already hate thee; do thy worst;
[He threatens her.
Nay, touch me, if thou dar'st; what, shall he beat me?
BRA. I'll make him seek his fingers 'mongst the dogs,
That dares to touch my mistress; never fear,
My sword shall smoothe the wrinkles of his brows,
That bends a frown upon my mistress.